


December: Deleted Scene

by Elvendork



Series: Calendar Verse [5]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Christmas, Deleted Scene, Family, Gen, Humour, Word Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 02:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4204752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvendork/pseuds/Elvendork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deleted/alternate scene from "December", the fourth in my MJN-as-a-family AU. In which the boys are both very excited and very bored, and Carolyn is becoming desperate. Fledgling word games ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December: Deleted Scene

**Author's Note:**

> Linguini, over on tumblr, requested "something I deleted before the the final draft" as part of a fic writing question meme... I had actually forgotten about this, and when I came back to it had surprisingly few cringe moments, so I thought to tide you all over until I finally finish January, I would release this slightly-more-than-a-snippet into the wild where it belongs. I hope you like it.

Once they do get home, mercifully without any more major disagreements (a near miracle with them all as worked up as they are), Carolyn is faced with the problem of what to do with them for the rest of the day. They can’t go out; the ice hasn’t melted after all, and the sky is still threatening a deluge of some sort. They can’t come with her to the sweet shop; she has had to leave it in the hands of two of her assistants for the afternoon because the boys are getting too old and too rowdy to take in with her for long. Herc is on a flight and so not available to help. None of them are able to settle to anything, and all of them have an unbelievable excess of energy; even Douglas seems hardly capable of staying in one place for more than five minutes at a time.

Martin requests a scavenger hunt, which Carolyn carefully avoids; there is too much risk of them prematurely unearthing Christmas presents. Arthur wants to bake one minute (too much mess and sugar, Carolyn decrees) and have a snowball fight the next (despite the persistent lack of snow). One of his many increasingly absurd suggestions begins with “if we had a monkey” but Douglas interrupts before they can hear the rest.

In the end, it is Carolyn who thinks of a solution – or rather, Martin’s actions cause Carolyn to make a suggestion which prompts Douglas into an actual _idea_.

It is a team effort, anyway.

It starts with an aeroplane passing overhead. Carolyn isn’t sure if Martin heard it (she didn’t), or just happened to glance towards the window at exactly the right time to briefly make out the faint, distant shape as it passes momentarily out of the clouds. His face, as it always does on sight of anything to do with aviation, turns rapturous. For a few seconds he is utterly transported, and even Christmas is entirely forgotten.

‘Alright, Martin,’ says Carolyn suddenly, once his attention is back on the ground with the rest of them. ‘What if you were on a really long flight, and you got bored? What would you do?’

‘I’d be flying,’ Martin replies, confused. ‘I wouldn’t be bored.’

‘You’ve heard Herc, though. Sometimes there’s lots of sitting around not doing anything for a long time – what do you think you could do then?’

Martin twists his lips and cocks his head to one side, clearly deep in thought.

‘Where are we going?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Where are we flying to?’ asks Martin.

‘Well –’ begins Carolyn, but Arthur gets their first.

‘Kuala Lumpur!’ he exclaims, grinning and jumping up from his position on the sofa in his eagerness.

‘Why on Earth –?’ Carolyn begins incredulously, before deciding she would probably rather not know. ‘No, you know what? Never mind.’ She waves one hand in a sharp sweep of dismissal, shaking her head. ‘Kuala Lumpur it is. Alright, Martin?’

‘How far away is it?’ Martin asks seriously, a deeply thoughtful look on his face.

‘Oh I don’t know, it’s somewhere in Malaysia isn’t it? About six thousand miles – seven?’ Carolyn guesses, dragging the facts up from one of Herc’s past flights and hoping she hasn’t confused locations.

A slightly stunned silence follows her words, then:

‘ _Whoa_ ,’ breathes Martin, wide eyed with amazement.

‘That’s _ages_!’ Arthur chips in, equally impressed.

‘So that’s something like twelve hours or so,’ Carolyn concludes decisively. ‘Enough time to get bored do you think Martin?’

Martin nods dumbly, still trying to process the thought of anything being so impossibly far away. Even with the large globe he has in his room (marked with little red flags for everywhere Herc has been since he moved in), it is difficult to translate _knowing_ that somewhere is on the other side of the world to _understanding_ it.

‘Well, any ideas for entertainment then?’

‘We could – we could play I-Spy?’ Martin suggests tentatively.

‘I-Spy _what_?’ Douglas snorts, contributing for the first time to the discussion with an impressive eye roll to accompany his words. While Carolyn, Martin, and Arthur are all standing he is lounging back on the sofa and watching the proceedings with a kind of bored disdain. ‘You’d run out of ideas pretty quickly.’

‘Well then… umm…’

‘Yellow Car!’ Arthur tries.

‘There _aren’t_ any cars in the _sky_ , Arthur,’ Douglas corrects, with a put-upon sigh. Carolyn edges away, taking advantage of their distraction to go and get herself a coffee while keeping half an ear on their conversation so that she can intervene should any real arguments break out.

‘What about…’ Martin trains off, biting his lip. ‘We could… we could…’

‘Twenty questions,’ says Douglas abruptly.

‘What?’ Martin frowns, half curious, half irritated by being cut off before he could come up with a better idea.

‘Twenty questions,’ Douglas repeats. ‘I think of something, and then you have to ask me yes or no questions to figure out what it is.’

‘How come _you_ get to think of something?’ Martin challenges. ‘Why can’t I do that?’

‘Okay then, you do it,’ Douglas gives in surprisingly easily and settles back into the sofa cushions, folding his arms and waiting expectantly. Arthur hops up onto the seat beside him, leaving Martin standing awkwardly in the middle of the room scrambling to think of something – anything – for his brothers to try and guess.

‘Got something yet?’ Douglas asks after several seconds.

‘Give me a minute!’ Martin snaps, wracking his brains. He runs his hands through his hair, turns around on the spot, and scans the walls and even the floor for inspiration. Carolyn watches from the kitchen doorway, coffee in hand. ‘Okay!’ Martin announces, ‘I’ve got something.’

‘Is it an aeroplane?’ asks Douglas in a bored voice.

‘That’s not fair!’ Martin splutters indignantly.

‘Is it?’ Douglas prods, looking smug.

‘How did you know?’ Martin demands furiously.

‘It wasn’t difficult,’ Douglas smirks. ‘My turn.’ He pushes himself nimbly off the sofa as Martin throws himself moodily onto it, but Arthur interrupts before he can settle on an idea.

‘Can I have a go?’

‘No, you didn’t guess it. It’s my go.’

‘But I’m rubbish at guessing,’ Arthur protests, looking unusually sulky. ‘I want a go.’

‘ _Fine_ ,’ Douglas huffs. ‘You have a go. But then it’s my turn.’

‘Not if I guess first,’ Martin points out, looking much more cheerful now that Douglas has been denied a proper turn as well.

‘Yeah, right,’ Douglas scoffs. ‘That’s not going to happen.’

‘It could!’

‘It couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m me; you’re you. I’m going to win,’ Douglas explains succinctly.

‘Are not.’

‘Am too.’

‘ _Are not_!’ Carolyn starts forward, but Douglas gets there with a rapid change of subject first.

‘Have you got something yet Arthur?’

‘Umm… yes!’ Arthur nods quickly, bouncing on his toes and looking very pleased with himself. He has his hands folded behind his back and his eyes keep darting towards the kitchen. Carolyn gives him a small, encouraging smile.

‘Are you sure?’ Douglas checks.

‘I’m sure.’

‘Is it alive?’ Martin jumps in quickly before Douglas can take over.

‘Yes,’ Arthur answers promptly, with half a glance towards the fireplace. Douglas catches the look and immediately knows the answer; he opens his mouth to say so but then notices Martin’s expression and stops himself midsentence.

‘Is it – is it to do with Christmas?’ he says instead, trying not to let his irritation show too obviously. _Come on_ , he thinks, _come on Martin, this is easy…_

‘Yes!’ Arthur grins. Martin frowns thoughtfully. Douglas resists the urge to bang his head against the nearest solid object in frustration.

‘Umm… is it… is it…’ Martin begins.

‘Human?’ Douglas supplies. He is _bursting_ to give the answer that he knows is correct, but he promises himself he will give Martin a chance at least – although if he doesn’t get it after this, Douglas is taking over.

‘You’re really good at this!’ Arthur exclaims. ‘Yes!’

‘Wait,’ Martin interrupts suddenly. ‘Do we get twenty questions each, or twenty between us both?’

‘I don’t know,’ Arthur admits, looking worried.

‘Between us,’ Douglas answers promptly. ‘Or you’d just have to wait for me to use up all my questions and you’d have all of those answers and still have twenty more goes.’

‘Or you’d use _my_ questions,’ Martin argues.

‘If you say so,’ Douglas allows doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

‘So what number are we on?’ Martin looks to Arthur, who looks to Douglas, who rolls his eyes again.

‘Seventeen left once Arthur answers whether it’s human or not,’ he reports impatiently. There is a pause. ‘Well? Is it human?’ he asks again.

‘Oh! Sorry – yes,’ Arthur replies.

‘So alive, human, Christmas,’ summarises Douglas with a significant glance towards Martin, who is chewing his lip again. ‘Any ideas, Martin?’

Martin’s eyes dart between the Christmas tree and the cards along the mantelpiece, then to Douglas, then his own hands. Douglas’s patience is stretched to breaking point, then –

‘Is it… Santa?’ Martin’s voice is so quiet that Douglas can barely hear it, but hear it he does, and throws his head back and his arms up with an enormous huff of frustrated relief.

‘ _Finally_!’ he cries.

‘You did it Skip!’ Arthur beams and throws his arms around Martin, who looks somewhere between smug and shell-shocked – too surprised, even, to venture forth an “I told you so”.

‘I… I did it?’ he asks, just to make sure.

‘Yes!’ Arthur confirms. ‘Now it’s your go again.’

‘Really?’ he looks to Douglas for permission. Douglas gestures grandly to the now open space in front of the sofa (Arthur hurries to retake his seat).

‘Go ahead,’ Douglas says. It’s not like it will take long for him to guess, and then he can show them how it’s _really_ done.

00000

They play for almost an hour – far longer than Carolyn had expected – before Martin announces that he is bored.

‘Only because you’re losing,’ Douglas scoffs, being, of course, by far in the lead on correct guesses.

‘I am _not_ losing,’ Martin protests stubbornly. ‘I’m coming second.’

‘Second from last,’ Douglas teases.

‘Second from _first_ ,’ Martin corrects. The three boys are now seated in a small circle on the floor. Martin has his legs crossed and his arms folded defensively; Douglas has his feet stretched far in front of him, leaning back on his hands and looking utterly at ease; Arthur is kneeling up eagerly, hands on his lap and eyes wide.

‘There’s three of us,’ Douglas points out. ‘Second from first _is_ second from last.’

‘I’d still get silver,’ Martin’s voice takes on a familiar half-proud, half-mulish tone that tells Douglas arguing will get him nowhere. Well – arguing will definitely get him _somewhere_ , and that somewhere almost undoubtedly ends with him the victor, but it also ends in shouting, which it seems sensible to avoid right now.

‘What would I get?’ Arthur asks earnestly. ‘Do I get something too?’

‘Bronze,’ Douglas allows. ‘Third place is bronze.’

‘Brilliant!’

‘I want to play something else,’ reiterates Martin.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> I have not edited this at all since I first wrote it, fully intending it to form part of December. Not editing something I wrote 9+ months ago when I have every chance to do so is... unusual for me. I hope my judgement was sound.


End file.
